


A Christmas Time Murder

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The New Star Trek
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Since Christmas break is coming up, I can't be sure how often I'll be updating, but I think I'll finish this over the break. Thank you for the support!</p></blockquote>





	1. The Party

“You look lovely, sweetheart.”

His words came from his bedroom. Down the hall, take a left. I had it memorized.

“ How can you tell? You haven’t even seen me.”

My words came quick, steady, even though I felt my heart racing a mile a minute.

“ I can tell by your perfume. Ruby. You only use it when…”

His voice trailed off as he stepped into the hall. His hands dropped from his   
bowtie as he stood in shock.

“ You like?” 

It was a stupid question, really. He had bought it for me. The long elegant red,  
shimmering dress. Parting into a V-dip down my chest, and exposing a mid-  
thigh slit, letting the dress fall around my leg. 

His pupils dilated, breathing rate increased, and, I would assume, so did his heart rate.  
I instantly calmed down. Watching him get turned-on by me was always one of my favourite hobbies. 

“Definitely.”

His hands went back to adjusting his bowtie.

I giggled softly, and walked over, helping him fix the tie he was so desperate fiddling   
around with. 

“ Well….” I drew with my best Irish accent.”Don’t we have a fucking private jet or some   
piece of crap to catch?” 

He grinned down at me. He took my arm and lead me out of his penthouse flat, the best in  
London, and out to a limo. 

“Sorry, Sparky, I had to leave the fucking private jets in America.” 

He opened the door and smirked at me. The smug bastard. Tony Stark, Iron man. And   
yet his favourite occupation was wasting money. Coming from a family that barely scraped   
by, you can tell how frustrating that can be. But I couldn’t help but smile because even  
when he’s smug he’s still adorable. 

“Get in the limo, bastard.” 

He climbed in with me right after him. 

How the hell did I fall in love with Tony Stark? 

That was the real question. This was never the plan. This whole...meet someone and fall in  
love. I was supposed to go through school, get a job near where my family lived, and help  
them. But while I was in college I’d heard about this man, M they called him, he would do  
anything as long as you would do what he asked. I had consulted him. At the time my family   
was having trouble helping my sister with her children and paying for my Dad’s hospital bills.   
Then he’d had an idea. Seduce Tony Stark, get married, and get his money. M said he...they..  
would do the dirty work. I had agreed. Hell, my family needed help.

But I had messed up, I had actually fallen for him. I loved Tony, I couldn’t deny it. I tried   
to call the arrangement off with M, but I’d only made him mad. He had been sending me   
threats...and I don’t think he’s bluffing. 

Tonight was the night, the night we ( me and M ) had originally planned on getting   
Tony to marry me. I was so sure by this time we would be engaged, but, as usual, I was   
wrong. Drastic measures were needed. 

I was watching out the window when I felt his body move next to me, his warmth covering me. 

“What’s on your mind?”

His words were so gentle, yet I knew any mention of M and we would go up in flames.  
I looked up at him and shook my head. Surprisingly, he had always understood that I   
would never show or tell him some things. He got used to that. So when I go into my   
thoughts, he doesn’t pry, he doesn’t beg me to tell him what’s going on. He just...  
Understands...And I guess that’s what’s so beautiful about him to me. Not having to  
tell him everything. 

\-----

We arrived quietly, only the sounds of our breathing. 

“ You coming?” 

I had been checking my phone for anything from M. I wasn’t going to do anything to  
Tony, I had determined that. And this party, that kept taking me closer to him, was   
making my anxiety spill over. I carefully got out and smiled as he offered me his arm.  
Taking it, we walked in together.

“I have to speak to a few important people first then we can party hard.” 

He grinned as he spoke. As if we were undercover. 

\---

After an hour of talking and one drink to a particularly perverted man’s face we were  
both dancing and laughing. He twisted and twirled me, lifted and dropped me, he   
spun me around so many times once that I couldn’t see straight for the next five minutes. 

“Stop it..” I giggled after the third twirl. “I need to be able to see!”

His face dropped, no longer watching me, but watching the door.

“What’s wrong?” 

My voice was quick, terrified that M had come to fulfill his threats. I twisted   
around and saw an older looking gentleman with a crooked nose and a three  
piece suit. He was escorting a younger looking, curly-haired man with his top   
few buttons undone. He was quite handsome, the younger one. Beside the one   
with black hair was a much shorter, much square-er looking man, with a military cut,  
sandy blond hair. 

 

“Mycroft Holmes, the british government. Very important to me.”

And just like that he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

My eyes searched the room for him, not wanting to let him get lost...Not while   
M is on my case about him. I take deep breaths and tell myself to calm down.  
My head cleared and mind focused, I don't even startle when I'm suddenly swept  
into a dance by an old man, covered in liver spots and wrinkles. I smile, wishing   
my Dad had lived to this age, that he could've at least been able to have a little fun, but...  
cancer is a bitch. 

"Your okay, darling?"

It's only then that I realize tears have starred roaming down my cheeks. I nod and  
let go.

I follow the sandy haired man to the bar and sit, though, it's not till he starts  
speaking that I realize it's him. 

"Something wrong, mate?"

He's staring directly at his drink. For a second I almost think that he's speaking  
to the drink. 

I nod, not expecting anymore conversation. 

"Want to talk?"

His eyes were on me now, not judginglying but...sweetly...like he cared. It was  
new for me, this caring crap. It always amazed me to see just how easily   
someone can fall into the trap of caring. Apparently this man's heart was  
made of gold, and yet he looked like hell. 

"I can't find my boyfriend..."

Ugh, I sounded pathetic. I wanted to tell him more, I longed for it. He'd seen hell,   
obviously he could deal with mine. 

"A man's after him, threatening to kill him. I don't know the man, but he keeps   
sending me threats. It just...scares me when he leaves."

He stared at me for a moment and then looked at the bartender. 

"Make it two beers."

\---

As the night went on and our drinks kept refilling, we got drunk off our asses. 

"Well, I'll tell you something, 'Sparky'" I

told him about the nickname Tony had for me. I got it because of my   
hair and the first time we met I had my hands buried in a metal project,   
sparks flying everywhere. He saved me from cutting off my own hand. I   
wouldn't have even realized I was about to.

I rolled my eyes.

"And what's that, Captain Watson?" 

"You should speak to my flatmate. He's a...he's some sort of detective. He can   
solve your case"

My eyes widened. A new person involved in my nonsense was one too many. 

"Uhh, no. I'll be fine."

He shook his head and grabbed my hand, pulling me to a hallway. It was   
quiet and darker. 

"No, no, no. You need help." 

He was way under six feet and yet he was taller than me. And way drunk.

"I d-don't."

He turned and pulled me close. Too close. Way too close. I could feel his   
warmth, and smell the alcohol on his breath.

"I know. I just want you here."

And with that. He kissed me, sloppily. It was so drunk it was bad. 

I pushed him away, apologizing.

"I can't..." 

I ran out of the building and tried to hail a cab in the freezing rain of London. 

"You'll never get a cab like that."

The deep baritone voice made me jump. I spun around and my face was   
hidden in his chest.

Good God he smells good. 

I blushed, and raised my head, staring up at the tall, dark haired man with   
the bouncy curls. 

"Your friend is looking for me. You should find him. He's drunk off his arse." 

I turned back to the road, holding my hair out of my face.

"My brOther will get him" I felt a warm object draped over my head and   
shoulders, blocking the rain. "You need my help." 

"No, I don't. I don't need help. I don't need anyone's help."

I pulled out my phone and froze. A cctv grainy picture of me...and John...  
A picture me and John kissing. My heart stopped. No. 

'Can't wait to see you at home.' 

Home. I looked up at the man currently staring at me like he could   
tell me my past. 

"Let me help you."


	3. My penthouse

I nodded and looked up, my eyes huge with fear. He's in my flat, he's in my flat with a picture that could destroy me.

"I swear if you judge me, I will stab you." 

I pulled him into the cab with me and told him my story, the whole story, closest thing to the truth that I could give.

\---

The detective seemed only mildly interested until I mentioned M. Upon hearing the alias of my employer, he perked up and listened much more intently. He waited politely and eagerly for me to finish my story before he asked questions of his own. 

"M, that's nothing more than an alias, a cover." He gazed at me, his eyes a piercing mixture of blue, green, and grey. "Do you know what M stands for?"

"How could I?" I stared at him, surprise in my voice. I never expected him to become so excited. I had expected anger, hatred, anything but excitement. "I've never met him."

I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of me and John kissing. 

"He's in my flat, possibly. He can ruin everything I've worked on." 

The detective looked out the window of the cab, silent and thinking. He looked as though he were worried, almost to the point of being scared. 

Quickly, however, his sharp, angular features returned to being unreadable. "I've met him, your employer, if he is who I think he is. "

The cab pulled up outside the tall skyscraper the lead up to an angular point that was Tony's penthouse. 

I tapped my fingers on my knee, not registering what he said for a long while. When I finally spoke my voice was soft and distant, not wanting to think about what's happened to Tony if he's up there.

"Yeah?" I looked at him, my hair by the sides of my face, my bangs covering one eye."And how would would you have met him? He doesn't speak to anyone. Not even his workers." 

I payed and got out, waiting on his answer. 

"It's a terribly long story," Sherlock said, following her out of the cab. "I've met him four times, each for only a few minutes." He looked up at the skyscraper, his lips quirking into a smile. "You live here?" 

I reddened and looked down, nodding. "Iron man, he's got money. Tons of it." I looked up at the piercing detective. " In other words, of course I bloody live here."

I smiled slightly, forgetting the current issue for just a moment. I pulled his jacket tighter around me. 

"I've seen you somewhere before." 

"Perhaps you have." He tore his gaze away from the building to look at me. "Have you got a gun?"

The question dragged me out of that happy place I found and made me face the reality I was in. 

"no, I haven't got a gun but," I turned away for a moment and pulled a pocket knife out of my dress."I have got this." 

"Do you think we'll need guns?" I hated how weak and scared I sounded. Weakness. That's all this is turning out to be. This...love thing. I tried to convince myself that I just got caught up in the act..that I don't care.

"I've got a gun." He avoided my question, but his expression said what he did not. It was very likely that we would need guns. "Show me up to the flat?"

I nodded quickly, and led him to the lift, pushing the button as much as I could. I pulled him into the lift and pushed the floor level. I tried to take deep brewths and ignore the growing pain in my chest, ignore every emotion except the cold one I used when I contacted M. 

"Why do you carry around a gun?" 

I looked up at the tall man with sharp cheekbones and curly black hair that had been neatly brushed. I barely even knew his name. His eyes were a piercing gray, blue-green mix, and his skin was as pale as the snow on the streets. He reminded me of a praying mantis. 

As we neared the top I found myself wondering if he was as alone and dangerous as a praying mantis is, by the look on his face, I didn't want to ask.

"Occupational hazard." He said simply, offering no more explanation than that

"Oh, that's not...helpful at all." I pulled off the coat and handed it back to him. 

I closed my eyes as doors slid open to reveal the penthouse. I breathed in the smell of money and alcohol, the smell of Tony. 

I didn't want to open my eyes, the horror that would be. As I slowly opened my eyes, I was confronted with something not so...scary.


	4. The Surprise

M was waiting for us, perched on the back of Tony's couch. His eyes, a deep, rich brown in the light of the flat, darkened when he saw Sherlock. He looked at me, his lips tightening into a frown. "I didn't say you could bring company, and I definitely didn't say you could bring him."

Standing at my side, Sherlock stiffened and reached into his back pocket. 

I looked between the detective and presumably M. "Lover's quarrel?" 

My voice was stronger than I felt. I looked back at M and crossed my arms, leaning a bit towards Sherlock's side, warning him that a gun probably isnt useful. I was quite surprised by the size of the man. Everytime we contacted I had imagined a...a...more powerful man. This one looked as if he was lost in the grocery store looking for his mummy. I searched his eyes, the dark brown burning a hole through me. 

"You're M?"

"Yes, I'm M, I'm Jim Moriarty." He rolled his eyes. "Lovers quarrel? Well..." His lips twitched in a nearly imperceptible smirk as he ran a hand through his dark, slicked back hair. "Not quite."

I could feel my whole body stiffen up. I don't know why, but the idea of the detective with M twisted my gut. 

"Where is he?" 

I looked around the main room of the penthouse, not finding anything..yet..

"You weren't really supposed to fall in love with him." M's-Moriarty's voice was cold, his Irish accent seeming now more threatening than "cute". 

"Well, Jim, if you've killed him, you've only cost yourself extra money." Sherlock gently squeezes my hand. I hadn't even realized he had been holding it until now. "You'll have to pat whoever killed him, and you won't get any of his fortune. Really, though, an American? That's a bit below your level."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Sebbbyyyy!" He called, glancing over his shoulder. Are you finished yet? It seems we've been found out."

"Mm, boss, have we?" 

A man- a tall man walked out of the bed room, covered in blood. He had a sniper rifle on his back and a smirk on his face. 

I looked down at my hand with the detective's, not wanting to see the man. Not the one with the blood on him. Not the blood that I caused. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them, wishing everything would just go away. 

"Is that...?"

"His blood? Yes." The blond one grinned. I would assume his name was Sebastian not Sebby. "He was quite the fighter, and very smart." He looked at the shorter one currently propped up on my couch like it's his fucking home. "Almost made me want to draw it out longer, take him for a spin."

Jim grinned at Sebastian for a moment before looking at Sherlock. "The amount of money I'll lose from this is insignificant." He watches Sherlock, his eyes burning into the detective with terrifying intensity. "You'll be hearing from me. Come along, Sebastian." He walked out of the flat, taking the stairs. 

Sherlock looked numb, frozen.

I ran to the bedroom, not wanting to see it but...having to...I opened my eyes, faced with the horror that was Tony face down on the bed, ass stuck in the air, guts spilling out, blood streaks down his face, eyes huge and scared. I screamed and ran over to the bed, pulling him into my arms. 

"No, no..Please...No!" 

I rocked back and forth on the bed, voice broken, unable to scream or make out words. I held his head in my lap, stroking his hair. 

Sherlock watched me for a moment from the door of the bedroom before walking away, to look for clues, no doubt. 

I pulled my bloody hands away from the corpse, my various degrees in medicine showing me there was no way to bring him back. I forced all emotion from my face and stood, not quite sure what to do. 

I followed Sherlock around for a moment. "Go. Now. Leave." 

Doesn't want him in her mess. Doesn't want another innocent man to get involved.

"Moriarty didn't expect me." Sherlock mumbled, almost to himself. "I surprised him..." He looked at me. "What?"

"Get out." I had pick-pocketed his gun earlier. I now aimed it at him, unknowing of if it was loaded, empty or how it worked. "I'm not going to let you get hurt too. Get out. I'll report it to the police." 

"Miss Schneider, look at your hands. You're covered in his blood. You've got a knife in your pocket." He put up his hands, taking a cautious step forwards. "If you go to the police, they will assume it was you who killed him. Let me help you."

My hands were shaking as he stepped forwards. I reinforced the gun, making sure of aim. 

"No! I won't let you get involved." The gun was now bloodied. "Mr. Detective, I swear if you take another step I will shoot. Now, I will take my years in jail, I'd be safer there. Now go!"

"If you insist." His voice was tight, strained. He didn't want to leave. "And please, call me Sherlock." With a sigh, he turned to leave, not pausing to retrieve his coat that I was still wearing. 

I realized I was wearing his coat and set down the gun. 

"Wait!" I quickly pulled off the coat, and ran after him. "Take your coat. I doubt I'll be seeing you again." 

Sherlock ignored me, pressing the button to close the door to the lift. 

I jumped onto it before he could close the door. "Take the fucking coat."

"You could have kept it. I have plenty." Sherlock avoided my gaze. "You know, I've been through more dangerous things than this. If you let me help you, no more people will have to die."

"Sure." I put it back on, buttoning the top button. "Sure you have. Nobody else will die if you stop trying to help. You'll get hurt." 

We rode to the bottom in silence, like he was waiting for me to pick up on something. And then it hit me. 

"You bastard, you tricked me into getting on the lift with you!" 

The doors smoothly slid open and I quickly shoved my hands into the pockets. 

Sherlock smirked. "Call me if you end up deciding you need my help after all. The name's Sherlock Holmes, by the way." He stepped out of the lift.

I growled and followed him. Hating that he could so easily trick me. I looked around and grabbed his elbow, making sure nobody would see the blood on my hands. "I can't touch the buttons. Hit them for me."

Sherlock looked at the blood that now stained his sleeve and made a face. He stepped onto the lift, pressed the button up to my flat, and stepped off.

I watched him step off, deciding I would call him. I shoved my hands back into my pockets. And closed my eyes. When I stepped off the lift into the penthouse flat, I felt everything drop again. I walked to the bedroom and stripped of the blood streaked clothes, hanging Sherlock's jacket on the back of the door. I took a long hot shower, and dried my hair. I sat in the middle of my bed in his jacket and searched him on my laptop. 

"The Science of Deduction. Sounds interesting." 

Hours later I finally got dressed, after having read about his cases on John's blog and his website. I changed into jeans and a long sleeve sweater. I picked up his jacket and my mobile and walked out of the flat with my suitcase. 

{Mr. Holmes?}


	5. The Call

"So you've finally decided to call me." The detective sounded bored, but I could hear the excitement he was masking.

I ignored the smugness of the question and went on with what I need to say. "I can't stay in the flat. Not with...him. Where would the genius suggest I find a flat for..." I looked at the cash I stole from Tony's stash in the flat. "Do you know how to count European money?"

Sherlock sighed audibly. "I recommend you stay with me."

I rolled my eyes. "Not tonight." I hung up the phone and walked into the nearest bar, buying myself a drink, planning on drinking everything away. All of this. Tony's death. My causing it.

My phone buzzed again, showing Sherlock's number.  
I took a long drink of my beer before answering the phone. "What?"

"You're going for a drink. Several, I expect. I'm not going back to London until tomorrow."

"So what?"

"Nothing." He hung up.

I stared at my phone, confused and upset. Does he not understand? I wasn't in the mood for a drink anymore so I walked out of the bar, shielding my face from the wind.

I pulled out my phone, hesitating. I texted m. **What would it take for you to leave me alone?** I felt guilty just for the text, even though I wasn't agreeing to anything.

**It would take your death, my darling. -M**

I blinked several times.

**You can have that.**

**I'll send Moran. Goodbye, my Schnieder. -M**

I took several deep breaths, terrified. I pulled up Sherlock's contact number.

**Goodbye. Thanks for the help.**

I tucked my hair behind my ear and waited.

Sherlock walked up, taking my arm. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

My eyes widened, I looked around quickly before trying to push him away. "Stop! He's coming to kill me, you don't have to help me anymore."

Sherlock sighed and touched my cheek. "I need you to trust me. Please. I can help you, and I'm going to help you."

I couldn't help the blush that rose on my cheeks and I cursed myself for it. I looked down and nodded.

**Not today, M.**

I closed my eyes and leaned my head into his hand. "Why?"

"Thank you. Shall we take a cab to my hotel?" Sherlock asked with a small smile.

**Too late! -M**

A white van drove up beside us, and two people in black jumped out. In a blur, they injected both of us with a sedative and shoved us into the van as everything went black.


	6. The Kidnapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Christmas break is coming up, I can't be sure how often I'll be updating, but I think I'll finish this over the break. Thank you for the support!

When I woke up my head hurt like hell and my hands were tied behind my back and I was lying beside Sherlock. His hair was messy from where he had struggled and he had blood on his forehead from where they must have hurt him. I closed my eyes and passed out again, unable to fight the drug

I woke again when I felt I was being moved. I felt like putty, unable to do anything, just able to watch. I kept looking around for the blond man, the blond man that killed my Tony. 

They handcuffed my hands to a table in locked me in a large room. I was facing a mirror and I couldn't tell whether there were people on the other side or not. 

"Sher..." 

My voice was only a rasp. I told him to leave me. I told him to.

"Victorrrriaaaaa..." M's voice purred over a speaker. "I did warn you, love. Told you I'd kill you." His voice became brighter. I could hear him smile. "But I've got a better I idea. I can burn you instead! You fall in love so easy, it's hilarious." 

The mirrors slid aside, revealing Sherlock, also tied to a wall, but still unconscious.

My emotions dropped. 

"I'm not in love with him." My voice was stronger now, showing no sign of how scared I was. I looked around. "Oh, come on. Do't you get bored? I know you do. So do I. I don't fall in love. I simply...Occupy myself." I smirked, watching Sherlock, hoping he heard nothing. 

I heard a giggle. The same giggle I've heard before. I watched as the blond one stepped out of the shadows. "Hear that, Boss? She's using them."

"Sheeee's lyyyyiiiiiing." M giggled. He wasn't bored, no. He was...he was entertained. I was his new little show.

I sneered. No way I'm going to entertain him. "Want me to prove it." I relaxed, sliding down in my chair. I tried to wiggle hands out of the cuffs without knowing but..There was no telling what all M had planned. And if his little friend was in here..It's not good.

"Have some fun, Sebby. Make him scream." M's voice hit ice, the traces of giggle gone. 

My eyes widened. "STOP!!" I reminded myself that I'm just playing into his hands. I pulled at the cuffs, managing to butt dial Erillya Wyatt, my friend and assassin, the one who told me about M. The one who got me into this. 

I could feel Sebastian grin, the corners of his mouth almost touching his ears. "Boss, please let me have this one?" He reached over and stroked my cheek. His fingers were rough and calloused. I spit into his hand, even though I could feel the heat rising on my cheeks.He grinned, wiping his hands. "I want to make her scream."

My whole body cringed. I couldn't help but imagine the horrible things he wanted. I looked over at Sherlock, almost pleading him to have some sort of power.

"Not yet, Seb. Sherlock first. Ooh! Both of them! I hurt her, I hurt Sherlock. I hurt Sherlock, I hurt her!" M giggled gleefully. 

Sherlock's eyes opened slowly at M's loud giggling. He looked around as though her were trying to gather his bearings

Sebastian grinned and undid my handcuffs so he could drag me to the other side of the room. I punched him in the balls and stole the key, swallowing it so he couldn't get it back. I tried to run over to Sherlock, but he grabbed my ankle and I fell down on my face. "Sherlock!" 

He crawled over me laughing at my failed attempt. He rolled me over so I was staring up at him. " The fun I'll have with you."

I spat up at him, wrenching one hand away to slap him. He pinned both my arms down with one hand. Then he spotted my phone, left behind in the chair. He picked up without releasing his grip on me. "Boss, looks like she's a friend of Wyatt." He grinned and hung up the phone, slamming it into the ground beside my head, making me scream. 

He dragged me to the other end of the room and tied me up like he did to Sherlock. "Just calm down, actually don't," he grinned."I'll like them when they're angry."

He walked over to his table of tools, pulling them out so we could both see them in the light.

"Of course she knows Wyatt, Wyatt brought her to me." M sounded bored.

Sebastian's phone rang. 

Sebastian finished with tying me up and answered his phone. 

{Hello?}

I looked at Sherlock, hoping he could see that I wasn't going to let him die, not because of me.

"Turn around, Moran, and put your hands in the air." Speaking into her phone, Erillya stepped out of the shadows. 

For once, M was silent. Even he hadn't anticipated this. As far as he knew, Erillya had always been loyal to him. Never defied his orders. 

Sherlock stiffened at Erillya's voice, looking up to see her.

I calmed down, having a friend in the local crime business always helps.

Sebastian turned around but he did not put his hands up and he did not drop the dagger he held so calmly in his hand. "Going against the business, love?"

Erillya shrugged, smirking at Sherlock. "Just going against you. I'll take over from here."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, grin returning to his face. "The red-heads mine. She's feisty."

I froze up.

No. This is wrong. Very wrong. She's going to kill him.

I looked at Sherlock, panic in my eyes. 

"Don't touch him."

Erillya raised her gun, aiming directly at Seb. She smirked. "You'll be fine, Victoria, you and Sherlock both."

Sherlock watched silently, his expression unreadable. 

I calmed down, watching as she saved me, once again. Erillya and I had been friends since middle school. We grew up together, moved to London, lived together. Until TOny

"Thank you."

I looked at Sherlock, and sunk. He'd never love me. I knew that much from his blog and John's. I just...M was right, I do fall in love too easily.

Sebastian stared at her. "You know you're hot when you're like this."

"I know, Sebby." She aimed at and shot the only camera in the room, taking out the listening device simultaneously. "So I'm giving you the option of helping me and possibly escaping a prison sentence."

Sebastian stared at her. "Help you? Help you what?"

"Take down the boss, of course." She said that as though it were as simple as opening a door. Erillya walked over to me and uncuffed me. 

I held my wrists. They were red from being bound to the table to tightly. "Thank you.."

"You're welcome," Erillya said, watching Seb through the corner of her eye. It was as if she knew he was going to attack her.

Sherlock watches us, smiling slightly.

I looked at Sherlock, panic in my eyes. No way after this that he'd want to help me. 

"Fine." Sebastian had come to a decision. He leaned against the wall watching.

I needed to get out. Leave. But I couldn't. This is my mess, I can't keep running from it.

Erillya smiled. "Brilliant." She untied Sherlock.

Sherlock stumbled sideways, dizzy from the blow to his head. 

I ran over to Sherlock, stabling him. I wrapped his arm around my shoulders to support him, not thinking about how small I was compared to him.

"What are we supposed to do?" Sebastian walked over to Erillya.

I looked up, not really even helping Sherlock at all. "I need a new phone. Somebody smashed mine."

The blond looked over at me and grinned. "She's still mine."


	7. The Wrath of M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing to third person point of view, partially to get M's perspective, and partially because I prefer to use third person more than Consulting-Madman does. It should go back to First Person next chapter.

They had escaped, and M was angry. Not that he had never had prisoners escape before. It had happened once or twice, but Wyatt and Moran and whoever M sent always retrieved the prisoners and punished them brutally. But now...now, not only had his latest prisoners escaped, robbing him of a good show, his most highly trusted assassin _and_ his best sniper had betrayed him. 

With a deep sigh, M flung himself into the plush rolling chair that sat at his desk and picked up his laptop. He needed someone to find Moran and Wyatt and Sherlock, and...that girl. Schneider. Not necessarily find them and bring them back, just find them and kill them. Smoothing back his dark hair, M closed his eyes briefly. Who could he trust to go after them? 

He opened pulled up a spreadsheet representation of his network. He _could_ send out a new recruit. They were always willing to do as they were told without question. Although, they could also be easily corrupted. Perhaps a new recruit _wasn't_ the best idea. 

That, however, led to another, more troubling question. Could he trust anyone in his network at this point? Moran and Wyatt had chosen the Threes, so who would they be loyal to? 

The way the network was organized was supposed to have made it easier for him to trust everyone in his network. He, the boss, was the One. Moran and Wyatt, the second-in-command forces, were his Twos- the most skilled of all of his network, the most loyal, the ones he had specifically chosen. The Twos chose the Threes to train the Fours. Anyone in the network who was unable to handle themself in a fight was labled a Five. Fives were the most common, doing the odd, mundane jobs that no one could be bothered with. 

The great wooden door to the office creaked open, distracting M from his thoughts, and a talk man with dark hair and piercing silver eyes stepped in. M recognized him as John Harrison, a highly skilled Four who showed promise. 

"What do you want?" M asked with a frown, looking up from his laptop. He had always liked watching Harrison practice. The man was terribly talented with a knife, a gun, even his bare hands, almost more than Moran and Wyatt, and what of his personality M had seen reflected that he knew it. 

"You sent for me." Harrison's voice held a thread of annoyance. "I was busy."

M glanced at his laptop screen. He had emailed Harrison without noticing. "So I did. You came very quickly, I'm impressed."

"What do _you_ want?" Harrison's silvery eyes wandered around the large room, appearing translucent in the bright lights.

"You know what's happened, do you not? You're aware of my...situation?" 

His intense silver eyes snapped to M. "You allowed two prisoners to escape, aided by your Twos. Now, you need them found, the prisoners killed, and Moran and Wyatt tortured and killed for leaving." Harrison's lips twitched into a smirk. "Am I wrong?"

"No, you're...correct." M shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "Can I trust you to carry out the mission you've just drawn out?"

"Trust? Oh, no, no, no, Mr. Moriarty. Jim. May I call you that? Jim? No, never trust anyone. That's how things get broken. However, I will do as you ask."


	8. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to first person, sorry.

“We have to avoid everything.” Sebastian was handing out wigs, hats, anything to disguise us from M’s workers or people on the street.

I had offered my flat up for us to stay the night but apparently we’ll have the best chance at escaping at night. Sebastian told me that M has been watching me from cameras in my flat for months, ever since I contacted him.

“This is impossible.” My voice was small, weak, compared to everything else. I looked up, covered in a blonde wig and enough makeup to camouflage a small cow, to find that Sherlock was the only one who had heard me. He was smirking. They had straightened his hair. I blushed, hoping the makeup covered it, and tried to figure out what Erillya and Sebastian were planning.

"M will be sending someone after us as soon as he can." Erillya put on a red wig, and was styling it so it wouldn't be in her way. "I know everyone in his network, so I know who he's definitely not sending." She looked at Sebastian. 

Sebastian was having trouble with his massive height and muscular figure. “He’ll have to send someone he can trust, so not a three. “

I watched them curiously. “Where /are/ we going?” I tugged on Erillya’s arm so she’d have to look at me.

Erillya stared at me for a moment. "I don't know."

I blinked and looked down, taking deep breaths. “I see.”

I pulled off the blonde wig and let my hair down, using the wig to rub off the makeup. “I’m not doing this.” I pulled the gun out of the back of Sebastian’s trousers and aimed at my own head. “Take me.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he reached for the gun. I took his hand and wrapped it around the gun, holding it to my head. “We won’t make it. Just go ahead.” 

I looked at Sherlock’s wide eyes, almost falling into the deepness, but I was pulled out when I felt Sebastian relax and hold the gun. 

“She’s right.”

"No." Erillya snatched the gun out of Sebastian's hand and stuck it down in her boot. "Look, we at least need to try."

“How? How are we ever going to escape the clutches of M?” 

Sebastian let go of me, grabbing Erillya’s elbow and pulling her over to him. They started speaking in hushed tones. 

I couldn’t help the tears that threatened to leak out, as I stared at the floor. I looked up. “I didn’t ask for your help. I didn’t ask for anyone’s help other than Sherlock.”

Sherlock. 

We all looked around for a moment, before I realised the dread that filled my lungs was now suffocating me. 

Sherlock was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first...


End file.
